


I Gave You the Clues, Now Find What I've Found

by highlyfashionablesociopath



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Lestrade, M/M, john and sherlock being secretly big gays for each other, mycroft being a smug little bitch, somewhat casefic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlyfashionablesociopath/pseuds/highlyfashionablesociopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out as any other case would have -- a call from a dumbfounded Lestrade, causing Sherlock to drag John away for the rest of the day hot on the trail of yet another vicious murder.  It wasn't until it was solved that John realized he had a date that night.  To make matters worse, he was slowly coming to the conclusion that he, John Watson, has a thing for his flatmate.  Not without a good bit of sexual frustration and an identity crisis, of course.  John wasn't gay.  He kept telling himself that, probably to reassure himself more than anyone else.<br/>He checked his phone and found that he had 5 missed calls from the girl he was currently seeing.  He sighed and didn't bother calling her back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Friends in Highly Low Places

**Author's Note:**

> i'll get back to The Social Life i swear i lost my flashdrive though so when i find that i can post the next chapter  
> please accept this instead!!!  
> also bonus points to anyone who understands the title reference

It started out as any other case would have -- a call from a dumbfounded Lestrade, causing Sherlock to drag John away for the rest of the day hot on the trail of yet another vicious murder. It wasn't until it was solved that John remembered he had a date that night. To make matters worse, he was slowly coming to the conclusion that he, John Watson, had a thing for his flatmate. Not without a good bit of sexual frustration and an identity crisis, of course. John wasn't gay. He kept telling himself that, probably to reassure himself more than anyone else.  
He checked his phone and found he had missed 5 calls from the latest girl he was seeing. He sighed and didn't bother calling her back.

***earlier***

The call came from Lestrade just as John came home from work. Well, the call ended anyway. John barely got in the door in time to hear: "Yes, we'll be on our way." A tone of surpressed excitement dripped off his words as he hung up.

"Brilliant! Oh dear Lord, finally a case seemingly worth looking in to," he shouted. He sounded like a kid getting a fancy new toy for Christmas. Which he was, in some ways. John tried to hold back a laugh.

"Lestrade then, mmm? What's so bloody interesting about this one?"  
"Not enough time. I'll explain on the way. I'm assuming you'll be wanting to change out of your work clothes; patients coming in vomiting and all."  
"How did-no, nevermind," John shook his head and trotted upstairs.  
"Cab will be here in ten minutes," came the rich baritone from downstairs.  
John grunted and was back down with fresh clothes in only five.

***

The three took their usual positions at the crime scene -- Sherlock strutting around looking for evidence, John kneeling next to the body to determine cause of death, while Lestrade stood to the side and watched the duo work. It was entertaining to watch the two, which is partly a reason why he often invited them to come down to crime scenes. Other than the fact that his team couldn't do jack shit most of the time.

There were certain things that Lestrade would pick up on between them, like the silent pride in Sherlock's eyes whenever John complimented his deductive powers. Or the way they joked about when they were together. As long as Lestrade had known Sherlock, John was the only person he ever joked with. It was obvious to him, and some others at the Yard, that they had feelings for one another. He wondered if either of them were even aware of their feelings. It really is amazing that some people are so good at deducing others yet they don't take the time to deduce themselves.

There were a few bets floating around the Yard on how long it would take for the two to start shagging, or whatever the Sherlock equivalent to shagging may be. A few placed their bets too early, and 20 pounds each were lost from a young tan woman and the pale weaselfaced man that accompanied her. Lestrade, regrettedly, participated in the bet. He knew Sherlock a lot better than anyone else so he had the advantage of knowing that Sherlock most likely wouldn't realize he wanted to snog John any time soon, and John made it painfully obvious that he's "not gay."

Lestrade's thought process was called back to the case.

"Cause of death, John?" The consulting detective didn't bother looking over as he asked. Lestrade wondered if he already knew the cause of death, but he just wanted to see if John could find it out by himself too.

"Mm, a few bruises about the neck, but not quite hard enough to actually strangle someone. It looks like the woman fought back, catching the attacker by surprise. Also seems to be an injury to the back of her head. That much is obvious. I'd say the killer might have been in a hurry, and when strangling didn't work, he bashed her head in," he replied, "How did I do?"

"Very well. Except you missed almost everything of importance." Sherlock smiled crookedly. John chuckled and punched him in the shoulder.

"Hey well you only asked for the cause of death."

Lestrade coughed. "Well?"

Sherlock frowned and stood up, followed eagerly by John.

"The victim is in her mid-20's, just recently graduated from uni. As John said, the killer initially planned on strangling her from behind, then when she started to fight back, he hit her in the head and quickly got away. Hate killers like these. Rushed. They always leave behind such obvious clues." He pointed to loose floorboard. "There's your murder weapon."

"Well okay, but how did he get in and out? All of the windows and doors were locked," the DI questioned.

"Simple. There's a trap door on the roof somewhere. The killer was probably in this house enough times to know where it was, so we can conclude that it was probably someone Miss Elaine knew fairly well. I'd advise you to look in to her family and friends. Get back to me once you have more information." He smiled one of his not-smiles and headed out the door, John close on his tail.

Lestrade sighed and shook his head fondly at the pair as he watched them leave. He hoped they would get together soon. The date he betted on was coming up.


	2. Kiss Kiss Fall in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a perculiarly lovely evening, and seeing as the crime scene wasn't too far from Baker Street, they decided to walk home instead of taking a cab. That may have been the best and worst thing they've ever done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry that these are so short!!  
> once i get a hold of a laptop instead of just my tablet, they'll be longer i promise

It was a perculiarly lovely evening, and seeing as the crime scene wasn't too far from Baker Street, they decided to walk home instead of taking a cab. That may have been the best and worst thing they've ever done.

It might not have been so bad, if they didn't have to pass a bar on the way. They didn't mind bars, no, occasionally John would go out for a pint with Stamford or sometimes even Lestrade. This bar in particilar, though, was infamous with a very bad reputation. One needn't even be inside to smell the fresh scent of sweat, blood, and alcohol. It seemed as if the entire street was polluted with the smell.

The occupants of the bar may be even worse than the smell. There were probably at least ten fights every evening, some happening simultaneously. The people who worked there never did anything to stop them, most of them were too drunk themselves.

That particular night was a quieter one. You could still hear the muffled shouts of drunkards coming from inside, but at least nobody was being tossed violently out the window again. 

***

"You probably could have solved that case without knowing who her friends and family were, couldn't you?" John questioned on the way back.  
"Of course. It was the brother, obviously. I just couldn't bare to stay at that dreadfully boring scene."  
"Why didn't you tell Lestrade?"  
"I'm just wondering if they can solve painfully obvious cases for themselves for once. I was disappointed. That one looked promising." Sherlock frowned. John laughed.

"Well I-"  
"Go homee you crazzy lovebirdss! Hahaha!"  
The drunk slurred, pushing Sherlock down towards John with unexpected force in such a way that their lips met briefly.

"It's about time we get you home too, old man," said the companion of the drunk man as they walked away.

Neither of them knew what to do. They stayed there for a moment, both wide-eyed, staring at each other. John's face was flushed, and he almost would have thought Sherlock's was too, if he hadn't known him better. After what seemed like hours of an awkward silence, Sherlock coughed and began walking ahead to Baker Street, like nothing even happened.

John cleared his throat and followed him after a minute. He tried his best to summon the stoic expression he often used in Afgan, to no avail. If he looked as flustered as he was feeling, he would probably never hear the end of it.

***

_What the hell just happened? That was an accident, right? Of course it was, you heard the old drunk. Okay, it was just an accident. Why am I so bothered by it? I mean, it's not like I haven't thought about kissing him befo-  
Okay, no. That's a bit not good. When did I start thinking if that? Normal people don't think about kissing their flatmates. Sod this, I'm not gay. Especially not for Sherlock. So why can't I just forget about it?_

Those were John's thoughts as they headed back to their flat. He probably never would have guessed that Sherlock was thinking about the same thing.


	3. You Check Labels More Than The FCC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This feeling -- what is it? Check for indecators. Pulse - quickened. Face feeling unusually hot. No reflective surface to check pupils. Enough data gathered regardless. Adrenaline? No. Oh god, sentiment? Infatuation? Improbable, but not impossible. I was wrong; need more data. To be further investigated upon later._
> 
> Sherlock coughed, clearing his head, and carried on walking. He glanced back at John from the corner of his eye.
> 
> _Face flushed, body tense, clenching and unclenching fists, looking downward._
> 
> A smirk formed on Sherlock's face. So he wasn't the only one in this disgruntled mix of emotions. This could be a lot more fun to experiment on than any case they've been on lately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep so this ones out  
> i'll get to The Social Life again i promise
> 
> btw if you want to see the blog entry i referenced to here you go  
> http://johnwatsonblog.co.uk/blog/29january

_This feeling -- what is it? Check for indecators. Pulse - quickened. Face feeling unusually hot. No reflective surface to check pupils. Enough data gathered regardless. Adrenaline? No. Oh God, sentiment? Infatuation? Improbable, but not impossible. I was wrong; need more data. To be further investigated upon later._

Sherlock coughed, clearing his head, and carried on walking. He glanced back at John from the corner of his eye.

_Face flushed, body tense, clenching and unclenching fists, looking downward._

A smirk formed on Sherlock's face. So he wasn't the only one in this disgruntled mix of emotions. This could be a lot more fun to experiment on than any case they've been on lately.

They came upon 221B shortly after. The walk had been awkward, and neither dared say anything to the other, being too caught up in their own thoughts.

Sherlock opened the door to the flat and almost shut it in John's face had he not said anything. He huffed, watching Sherlock go off and gracefully plop down on the sofa, assuming one of his thinking positions. John sighed and hung his coat up. He had his own thoughts to tend to.

_John. Pull yourself together for God's sake. You're a mess! And all because some drunk bloke pushed you into Sherlock. This isn't right. Why is it bothering you so much? Sherlock didn't seem to care._

He looked over at his companion. The way the light shone upon him made him look especially dreamy. John shook his head fondly. Sherlock was probably the only person in the world who could look so elegant in such an awkward posture.

His breath hitched.

_Oka-a-ay. I don't normally have thoughts like that. Or do I, and I just shove them away? Hah. Yeah. Well. Maybe. Who knows anymore?_ But I'm not gay.

A nagging "yes you are" sounded somewhere in the back of his mind.

Well, think about it. I've been attracted to him since the first day we met, but I didn't think... He thought back to the comments on the post he made on his blog that day and smiled ruefully. _Even_ they _could see it. The first day we met I bloody shot a man for him and I didn't even regret it. Then when The Woman came along..._ He sighed. _I can't deny that I felt **something** when she was around and it certainly wasn't attraction. Jealousy. Oh, God, how could I have been so deluded?_

_"Does that make me special?"_  
"I don't know. Maybe."  
"You jealous?"  
"We're not a couple!"  
"Yes you are." 

He played the scene back in his head. He'll never forget that voice and the smug look on her face as she said it. _"Yes you are."_ It echoed in his mind.

_"yes you are..."_

**Author's Note:**

> next chapter will be up soon!!


End file.
